These are Our Songs, These are Our Stories
by tiger002
Summary: They didn't ask for these lives. But they made the best with what they were given. A collection song fics dedicated to the brave souls of the Glade.


**A/N: **Well I read the books recently and wanted to write fan fiction for it, but it doesn't seem to be a fandom that lends it self to a lot of big ideas, especially since the story isn't over yet. But I've gotten some ideas for song fics so decided to do a series of those for the different characters. If you have any requests, feel free to leave them in a review or pm me. I don't want to do the same character more than once, and I won't promise to do all requests I get, but I'll try to at least do some of them. Also, these chapters may contain major spoilers for both books, so if you haven't finished them yet…what are you doing reading this, go read them!

And Alby is up first with the song This Love This Hate by Hollywood Undead. I wasn't able to use as much of the song as I would have liked, but I was able to use what fit and the story turned out differently than I had planned. Anyway, enjoy, and please review.

…

**Alby: This Sacrifice is for You.**

'_In a time of need only few can see what's wrong  
>millions tend to crawl but only those who choose can make it through this all'<em>

They say that we must escape.  
>They say that we must fight.<br>That we can finally escape this horrendous place.

They don't get it though.  
>They don't know what's behind these walls.<br>They only know what they have been told by Thomas.

And it's obvious he doesn't remember it all.

The world we live in is a paradise compared to what's out there. We think we have it hard here, confined within the maze, the grievers searching for their next victim every night.

It's a shucking joke compared to the real world.

And now Thomas thinks we can fight the grievers, that because they have only killed one a night so far that only one of us will die tonight.

I hope for these shanks' sake that he's right.

And I hope I'm the one to die.  
>Suicidal?<br>Maybe, but I like to think of it as logical.

I've seen Thomas, seen him in the changing, and there is more to that Greenie than anyone knows. Maybe even more than he knows.

Though I'm not buying his whole amnesia story.

'_Only few can sing like lions 'cause we sing until we're gone  
>And we've got each other's backs until we're back where we belong.'<em>

I'm not going to just stay back with the cowards though. Thomas, Newt, Minho, they all say that we don't have any other choice but to escape this maze. They have hope.

Because they haven't seen what I have.

They don't know what I know.

They can't know what I know.

The creators have seen to that.

So the shanks prepare for battle with the grievers. They arm themselves with every weapon we have, turn anything we can into a weapon.

Because if there is one thing we know about the creators, they don't make things easy.

We march in silence through the maze, Minho taking the lead as we head to the cliffs. We fidget at every sound, everything that could possibly be a griever around the corner.

Though, there is silence.

Maybe that shuck plan actually worked.

Maybe the grievers actually went to the glade as they've done every night, found some shank to kill and we can get through this without much of a fight.

But as we round the last corner we see how wrong we were.

Dozens of them.

Maybe more.

"Should we go back?"

We should have known better.

"We have to get through them."

The creators have been watching our every move since we arrived in the Glade.

"They'll kill us."

We couldn't outsmart them.

"Maybe not."

I don't know who is saying what by now. Nor do I care.

But I do know they all want to get out of here. They want to see the world out there. Pay the creators back for all this clunk they have thrown at us.

The grievers just stand there, waiting, wondering if one of us is brave enough to make a move.

I hear them talk, wanting to run back, to wait it out until they kill every one of us.

I won't let that happen.

They came here knowing they'd have to fight to make it out.

They forsake safety when they came along with us.

And I'm going to give them what they came here for.

A way out.

'_Let these words strengthen all your views  
>Because these words were meant for you.'<em>

"Newt, take care of them," I say softly enough so no one else can hear.

I run at the grievers, my weapon raised high, ready to pay the grievers back for their little trick not so long ago.

Suicidal?  
>Maybe, but I like to think of it as logical.<p>

Shuck it, I'm just ready to pay them back for everything.

All the fear

All the pain.

Everything.

I get a couple good hits on them, but they surround me.

Good.

Maybe those shanks can get around them.

A blade slices through my arm.

They stand there staring.

I'm pinned to the ground.

**Pain**

So many of them.

**No Escape.**

I try moving but my legs are gone.

_(When did that happen?)_

I fight though, my fists flying despite my body being torn apart. Each second I can survive is another second the grievers will stay on me. And maybe, it will be long enough.

But soon the pain fades...

It all fades.

_**Death**_

_My body…what did it feel like to have one?_


End file.
